


Anonymous Donor

by Cass826



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 08:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cass826/pseuds/Cass826
Summary: Annie and Gene seem to have received some suspicious letters from Hyde. What can their current case and these letters have to do with the future?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Any comments or feedback at all are welcome

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the TV series Life on Mars

Anonymous Donor

From the dark reaches at the back of his mind there emerged faint voices. Sam could hear them talking, becoming clearer with each episode, but since waking in 1973 he gradually began to seriously question his own sanity. He recogised cries from his mum, goodbyes from his girlfriend Maya and encouraging words from nurses and doctors, but this Voice was not familiar.

"Hello Sam! are you going to open your eyes for me today?" it asked. It was female, soft tones that slowed his heart. "It took me a while to find you but I am here now. I certainly have missed you"

Sam turned over in his drop-down bed the emerald green blanket wrapped around his legs and waist. The warm glow of the sun dripped through the holes in the net that hung from the window. As he began to settle back into the well of the mattress that his body had made-now damp with sweat-he managed to lift his head to give in to the cold side of the pillow. His body laid motionless and numb as he remembered the disturbing dreams he had whilst trying to sleep last night, his eyes had become too heavy to control and each blink hurt like acid. The hours passed in quick succession until now so he assumed he must have eventually fallen asleep. Once again the Voice oozed into his dreams, pulling him downwards, "Don't worry Sam it can't be long now, we'll get you out of there, all you have to do is fight it".

Who is she Sam wondered, they seemed familiar but he could not match a face to the Voice. The warmth of a hand on his shoulder seeped through his skin and wrapped itself around his naked chest, this was the closest he had felt to 2006 for weeks. "I'm just going for a second but I'll be back soon." It said. He closed his eyes, the tips of his eyelashes resting on his cheeks.

BANG! The door to his flat was swollen on its hinges as Gene Hunt slammed his fist against the wood. Through the gaps around the door frame seeped the yells of his DCI, "Open this bloody door, you tart!. Tyler, before I get pissed off", sarcasm tinged his voice with a contemptuous humour.

In the moments it took Sam to walk across the flat and rest his fingertips on the rusty metal knob he could hear Gene's voice continue incessantly, but not aimed at Sam, "I will lower my voice, madam, as soon as you get your ugly mug out of my face." With the door wide open Sam was greeted by the side of Gene's face which he noticed had turned almost scarlet, he was yelling at Sam's neighbour, a fifty something woman still in her dressing gown with three young boys screaming about her feet. With a smile stretched across his face Gene turned to face a half naked Sam whose eyelids were still hanging heavily, misting his vision slightly. "Morning sleeping beauty!," As Gene took a step forward forcing Sam to retreat in turn, he filled the full frame of the doorway before resting his large upper body onto his elbows over the stained kitchen worktop. In Sam's opinion his flat stretched the word multifunction to the full extent of its meaning, a single room with faded green and brown wallpaper, contrasting pink wall lights with cupboards along one wall to satisfy the definition of kitchen. With one camel coated sleeve Gene gestured towards Sam's underwear "Are you going to get dressed, I don't think my delicate nature can stand you waving that thing around any longer. Not that I should be worried". Gene hooked his fingers through the belt loops on his trousers, with a twitch of his nose he sniffed and readjusted the waistband that had fallen below a stomach that might have qualified as three months of pregnancy had Sam not known how much DCI Hunt drank. Sam rolled his eyes, ignored Gene's arrogance and splashed some water from the rusting bowl of the sink at the opposite side of the room. "What are you doing here, couldn't it wait 'til I got to the station" Sam asked through the fabric of the brown towel as he rubbed the last of the soap and shaving cream from his face.

"I was worried for your safety, thought you might be getting lonely, so came to pick you up. Now I'm no bloody chauffeur so hurry up." Sam lifted the thin bedding on the pine varnished bedframe and laid it flat, picked up the small bottle of whisky that sat on the bedside table before he reached into one of the cupboards behind Gene and poured a shot of painkiller. For the first few weeks that Sam had found himself back in 1973 he had tried to remain disciplined and in control but recently the constant battle of 1973 and 2006 in his head had caused Sam to become a little more lax in some areas of his life. A shot of whisky every morning made it easier to deal with DCI Hunt's eccentricities. "Well, while you adjust your makeup I'm going to wait in the car" and he turned to leave.

"Other than to torment me earlier than usual, what did you really want?" Sam asked.

"If you really must know then get that poker out your arse, hurry up and and I will tell you in the car. God, you are slower than Bill and Ben in a three legged race!" Sam picked up his black jacket from the cracked and faded armchair and followed Gene into the hallway.

The orange Cortina fishtailed as DCI Hunt forced the brake pedal to the floor, causing Sam to slide on the beige vinyl upholstery. Considering how much Hunt mouthed off about how wonderful his car was Sam decided that Gene must fawn over his car more than his wife and that most of his wages were siphoned off on brake pads. The tyres screeched and Sam's fist tightened on the door handle as Gene threw the car straight at a row of six sparkling white new police motorbikes. Paying no attention to where he was heading Hunt turned to Sam, reached into his inside pocket of his coat and simultaneously applied so much pressure to pumping the brake Sam was sure he saw the pedal shaft bend. "I'm not usually one for love notes but have a read of this" and he passed an brown envelope with threadbare corners to his passenger. Sam sat quietly until he had finished reading, when he turned to question Gene, who was already standing by the wing of the car tapping his foot impatiently. Sam got out and rested his elbows on the roof as he read again.

"Can't say I enjoy being threatened much but it can put a dampener on the day" Gene mumbled as he ascended the concrete steps to the police reception. "How seriously are you planning on taking it?, What about your wife?" Sam asked. Gene hardly mentioned any part of his personal life so Sam decided now was the perfect opportunity to test the theory that if his mind had created this world, how far would his imagination go, where did the boundaries in this world end?.

"Nah, she's alright, staying with her sister for the week" Gene stated dismissively. Through the metal and glass door both men were met by the smell of cigarette smoke and the claustrophobic mix of vomit and disinfectant. Sam's eyes stung but Gene did not wince as they approached the reception desk. Behind it stood a uniformed WPC, stout and grim. "How were the weekend lot then Phyllis? Have we got anyone left in the cells this morning?"

"No, Sir, just cleaning them out now." She folded some papers and threw them in the metal bin by her feet "Oh, some bloke was asking for you earlier sir".

"So long as it wasn't Liberace then we're alright. I assume this mystery man has gone?"

"Yes, Sir", she said.

"Right, Thank you Phyllis for that insightful piece of information" Hunt walked through the double doors towards the CID offices on the second floor, Sam walked in Gene's wake as he suspected many officers did but stopped momentarily when he saw DS Ray Carling and DC Chris Skelton hunched over Ray's desk, pointing and leering at a Harrods's lingerie catalogue between them. "Oi, Laurel and Hardy. Ladies present!" and with a nod Gene gestured towards WPC Annie Cartwright, the young female policewoman who had been spending more and more time on the second floor since DI Tyler had joined the team,. She was currently sitting behind Sam's desk. "Cartwright what are you doing here, I don't remember promoting you, when we need you we'll whistle, thank you very much!" Gene commanded. Annie feeling a little dejected got up and walked towards the stairs at the far end of the room and both Ray and Chris stared at her rear as she walked away. Gene decided this was enough of a distraction to be able to snatch the magazine from Ray's desk and after a quick flick through he rested the binding in his left hand and rolled the pages in on themselves. Waving it at DC Skelton Gene instructed "You're too young to look at tarts in their knickers" and swung it at the back of Chris' head. On hearing the noise again Annie turned to see both Chris and ray rubbing the backs of their heads, prompting an involuntary little grin. She lowered her eyes to make sure she didn't slip on the stairs but just as she took the first step gene called after her. "Cartwright, if you want to make detective I suggest you stay seated at Sam's desk" – a polite invitation for DI Hunt, she decided. On returning to her seat she carried on with her unfinished paperwork. Sam walked over and pulled the seat out from the desk in front of his, so far that the back leant against Annie's desk. She didn't lift her head as Sam settled astride onto the chair, resting his arms crossed on its back. "Morning, Sir. How was your weekend?" She continued writing what appeared to be a report from their last case. "Its not like you not to get your homework in on time Annie? Hang on..." he turned his head at an almost impossible angle to try and read her handwriting from upside down. Annie lifted her eyes to come face to face with Sam and lay an arm defensively across the paper. Sam pulled the files from her grasp, looked deep into the electric blue irises of each eye trying to find an explanation and instantly spun on to the balls of his feet. Stalking into Hunt's office, throwing the door shut so hard that the glass rattled in its frame and caused the trophies to shake on the filing cabinet next to him. He dropped Annie's papers onto the table between them; camouflaged easily by the piles of folders strewn about the desk and floor.

"What's wrong with you now" Gene asked with a slightly bored tone to his voice. "It's Ray!" Sam exclaimed. "I was wondering why Annie was writing up Ray's report from last week's wages heist?"

""How the bloody hell should I know?!" Hunt replied as he lay back on the heels of his chair, he stopped reading his newspaper which not so subtly disguised the lingerie catalogue he had taken from Ray and Chris. "Thought of asking her?" Gene moved his legs from on top of the edge of the desk and walked to the door of his office, mimicking the Gary Cooper and Paul Newman posters that plastered the walls. Forcing his chin upward slightly so that his voice would be projected across the full length of the adjacent room Hunt shouted across the pool of detectives. "Oi, legs wants to see you in my office now!". To the score of sniggers and jeering by Ray, Annie walked over to her superior's office, head low she eventually came upon a wall of Hunt's chest for a few moments before he moved aside. Once inside, the door shut and with his back to an eager audience Hunt looked from Tyler to WPC Cartwright "Boy Wonder here wants to know why you are doing Ray's work for him. Can you tell him and shut him up so that I can go back to the times crossword". Beano was more likely Sam thought.

Annie looked puzzled from Gene to Sam. Almost whispering from the corner of her mouth she tried to make sure that DCI Hunt could not accuse her of not answering, but at the same time not hear her explanation "I don't mind honestly, its for my own benefit anyway, if I ever I need to look over these files I don't have to contend with Ray's awful handwriting". Sam had not yet realised, but he too had begun to whisper "You're a good police officer Annie, you deserve to be treated the same as any other detective". Feeling slightly blushed from the complement Annie lowered her face trying to hide any differences that made her look weak compared to her male colleagues. "Its fine sir, please, leave it." Gene coughed and the privacy of the conversation broke immediately, "Don't mind me" he said. "Now, as we are one step away from chaining ourselves to the nearest railings and burning our bras, I think we have decided that Cartwright doesn't care. I however would hate to see one of my officers taken advantage of". Although his words contained a certain level of decency his tone was as aggressive as usual. He picked up the report Annie had begun, tore it in two and opened the door of his office. "Ray!" he shouted "do your own bloody work in future, he turned back to Sam and Annie. "Happy?".

Annie walked from the room, her eyes transfixed to the floor, watching the dull and scuffed tiles as they changed from grey to black and then blue, which Annie recognised as the colours of the canteen. With a cup of tea she sat silently in the corner with her back to the double doors that had been left swinging in her wake. From over her shoulder Sam stood so close she could feel the warmth from his body and could smell Aramis mixed with the leather from his jacket, interspersed with the drifting odour of overcooked cabbage. He placed a hand on Annie's right shoulder and sat down next to her "Sorry I didn't want to make things worse for you".

"That's alright, they'll find something new to entertain themselves soon, Ive got two brothers , I can handle those two upstairs. The problem is just that I've been having some trouble at home." Sam didn't think of Annie as having a personal life, like Gene she only seemed to exist when he; Sam was around. He smiled trying to entice some information from her, without pressing the issue. "Anything I can help with?" he asked. Annie reached into her breast pocket, pulled out a small brown envelope and in turn a folded piece of paper, which she pushed across the grain of the table so it sat in front of Sam.

As you lie awake, blood running through your veins,

I watch in silence, waiting for you to be alone.

Your mother's sad, your father's grieving.

Francis, enjoy your time, for soon it might be ending".

Sam shivered inside. The content of the letter was similar to Hunt's, a sick threat that gave no specifics. With a graphologist and forensic analyst this wouldn't even become a problem but... he paused. Sam looked questioningly at Annie "Francis?, Who's Francis?" he asked.

"I am" Annie said with a coy but slightly embarrassed smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, she continued "I never liked 'Francis' so I have used my middle name since I was eighteen." She shifted uncomfortably seeing the curiosity in his eyes and looked back at the tea on the table." "Annie this is serious" Sam insisted shaking the paper in front of his face. "I know it is" she said "Do you have any idea who might have sent it"

"No" Sam's back hunched a little, feeling deflated.

"You don't recognise the handwriting" Sam lifted the paper and sniffed it. "Avon's Unforgettable, if you must know sir". Annie said, assuming he was trying to identify her perfume. Non-respondent Sam turned it over and rubbed at a small greasy stain an inch in from the corner. "Do you mind if I borrow this" he asked.

"Knock yourself out" Annie appeared to be as naive or as brave as she had done since they met a couple of months ago. It had taken one almost date and a number of undercover operations for Sam to understand WPC Annie Cartwright. She was honest and loyal, so apart from describing her like a retriever he was not much closer to opening up to her. Sam was concerned for Annie's safety but until six o'clock when she finished her shift at the station he was pretty sure he could vouch for her whereabouts, giving him some time to investigate these letters. Instead of risking the wrath of Hunt's misplaced and volatile anger Sam decided that he would leave Gene's letter in his back pocket even though knowing that she was not the only recipient might have made Annie feel better but it seemed that keeping Hunt's private life away from anyone in the station might be his wish. Sam pushed back his chair from the table, its metal legs vibrated against the rubber flooring, leaving black streak marks and an echo through the half empty room. As he walked towards the canteen doors Annie caught hold of his wrist, "Please. Don't let anyone else know about this letter. The last thing I need to do in front of them is look weak" and she gestured behind her, a vague reference to DS Carling, Skelton and Hunt who must have arrived for their mid-morning break, Sam assumed. Sam twisted his spine and looked back down at her. She said, "It doesn't bother me that whoever sent this letter knows where I live because they could have just followed me home one day" Sam thought that it was surprising how she was not frightened at this prospect and as if she could read his mind Annie replied "I can take care of myself Sam. What worries me is that there are probably only four people in the world who knew enough about my name change, my parents, brothers and now you." She was brave, Sam decided with a smile on his lips.

xxx

Sam walked into the office, past Chris as he balanced on the back two legs of his chair and Ray who sat with a cocktail stick, picking at his teeth, catching his gums occasionally with a painful yelp. In the corner of the office was a small room filled with army surplus filing cabinets and the smell of musky wood with moth pupae at the edge of the drawer runners. Sam had the idea that there was one place personal information would be at easy access; police personnel files. The folders inside were in no alphabetical order that Sam could see, so unless he worked quickly, he could be there a while. In the fifth drawer of the third unit Sam found a number of files he recognised, Ray's, Chris', Hunt's, Annie's and his. In his quest to help Annie Sam had almost forgotten about his own search for truth in getting back to 2006. If I never existed in this world before a few months ago what kind of past has my imagination created for DI Sam Tyler. Sam pulled the paper folder from its place and rested the crease into the palm of his left hand and flicked open the front. Inside it was empty. Alone in the room Sam saw no point in hiding his disappointment and his shoulders slumped. He reached for Gene's and Annie's files, again both were empty, Ray's and Chris' were left untouched. With a squint Sam heard a faint beep in his ears and a dull point push against his temples. In a circular motion Sam rubbed at the pain, rested his elbows onto the top drawer of the filing cabinet still grasping the papers in the remaining three fingers and thumb of each hand. His heart pumped at an explosive volume down his spine. Through the fuzz in his hearing came the dull tones of a female voice he had heard this morning, "Sam?.. Sam, Sam! I am back." The pain shot through his chest and again in his temple piercing behind his eyes. The screaming filled the room until in the last moments of consciousness it was his mouth the screams came from. His face smashed against the linoleum, cold but cooling, hard but stable.


	2. Anonymous Donor 2

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the TV series Life on Mars

With every blink Sam's vision became clearer, the grey contorted locker doors, the dusty cobwebs across the high rectangular window and the stained lino floor. Slowly the recognition that he was still in 1973 came into focus. As Sam began to lift himself from the equally stained settee the pain throbbed through his legs as violent pins and needles spread upwards through his calves and thighs. As the numbing ache reached his hips, his temples tightened and the muscles behind his eyes were twisting unscrupulously. Instantly he dropped back down onto the rough brown and orange wool settee, listening to the stream of muffled expletives that filtered through the thin partitioned walls from the station floor. "Sam…Sam!...Sam!. where the hell are you? ". "Sam, Sam?", the voice came again but this time in a more gentle tone, a woman's voice. It was the Same voice he had heard before he had passed out. With a slow turn of his neck Sam was met by the soft features of Annie's face, framed by her dark brown hair. She smiled down on him and parted her lips but what he heard did not sound like her voice, "You were out for a long time there, it's nice to have you back with us".

"I am not so sure" he mumbled. On his hand Sam could feel Annie's grasp getting tighter but when he looked down both her hands were resting on the seat cushions, to steady herself as she crouched down beside him, nowhere near his.

"I am sorry, when I heard what had happened I came over straight away. I'll tell you what though, even surrounded by all these tubes and monitors, you still don't look a day older than when I last saw you all those years ago", the anonymous voice said gently.

"What do you mean?" he slurred through tingling lips and tongue.

"The doctors told me that although what you are going through must be deeply distressing, so long as you have something to fight for through these difficult stages you'll return to a stable condition and then we should think positively. Although, I can't help but wonder if it was because of me, the way we left things, it wasn't the easiest thing for me to do, you must understand that. I just hope that one day you can forgive me".

"Forgive you, what for?" Sam asked.

Annie's brow furrowed in confusion "Sorry sir, what did you say?"

"Nothing" Sam said dismissively as he realized that it was Annie's real voice that had slipped from her lips, his hearing had begun to clear and his brain no longer roamed around dizzily inside his skull. From the doorway came another voice he recognized, "Feeling better Tyler?". Sam was surprised at the concern in his DCI's voice.

"Yes, Sir, back with the living" Annie replied as she suddenly stood upright. With an instant twist back into character Gene briskly barked, "Good, then, when you have stopped playing Doctors and Nurses, maybe we can have a go at Cops and Robbers. Cartwright: Stop distracting my detectives!. You can give him a bunk up later! Annie, with a slight smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, averted her eyes to the ground hoping to disguise the childlike blush of her cheeks.

"Tyler, there's been a robbery at Harry's Pawnshop in town. You'd have thought he'd got used to it by now" Hunt sighed.

Sam quickly realized that every time he fully engaged with all the events of 1973 he drifted further from 2006, particularly on those occasions where he was alone with Annie. He must make a more concerted effort to keep himself distant from those around him whilst he was here, however short a period he hoped that would be, Sam thought. It didn't mean he should completely stop interacting with everyone, because as a small part of him enjoyed throwing the rule book out the window in order to get results and Gene quite often got results. He tried getting up from the seat again and this time paused in a seated position, his face temptingly close to Annie's.

"What are we waiting for then?!" Gene turned on his heels and left the room, leaving a draft of awkward silence in his wake between Sam and Annie. Sam readjusted his shirt "Thanks Annie" he said and followed his DCI from the room, through the CID office and past the other detectives; where Chris and Ray remained undisturbed by the vast form of Hunt as he swept past. The tails of his overcoat twisted and flicked at the piles of loose papers balanced on each desk, as always leaving chaos in his wake.

xxx

The Cortina was propelled through the long terraced streets of Manchester towards the south corner of Soap and Thomas Street, where cheap jewellers and disreputable pawnbrokers were camouflaged behind the façade of classical pseudo-Grecian architecture. As the journey from the station ran past in a blur of red brick and stone Sam's thoughts stRayed to the absence of Gene and Annie's personnel files and the letters they had given him. He reached for the envelopes in the rear pocket of his blue cotton flares.

Sam tried to think about who might have sent these letters but through the base and throng of the 8-track cassette of Derek and the Domino's 'Layla'; he was failing abysmally. He thumbed through and examined the paper, its thickness even its smell. The fact that they were typed and not hand written meant that someone was making an effort to disguise their handwriting style. On turning the envelopes over for the third time he spotted in each corner, the small black ink circle of a postage stamp. The date printed was from exactly a week ago, the usual time for a letter in 2nd class post but below that was ' Hyde' as the place of origin.

"...who cares, but I'll run over the bloody lot of 'em if they get in my way again", Gene screamed, aiming insults at a group of small children as they kicked a small tennis ball against the crumbling brick of the terraced houses on the opposite side of the crossroads. The lack of his DI's attention caused Gene a moments pause and subsequently a flare in temper "Tyler?, Oi? I'm not Open University. You do not fall asleep while I am talking!"

"Sorry I was just thinking. The post stamp on the envelope, that should narrow down who sent you that letter, right?."

Gene raised an eyebrow and grunted. "Yeah, well, congratulations. Can we get back to the issue at hand."

Sam sighed and decided that most conversations with Gene were ultimately one sided, he would investigate the postmarks when they returned to the station.

The car came to an immediate emergency and unnecessary stop, as did the unprogressive topic of conversation. Sam sat in silence and mentally prepared for the scene and the departmental procedures that would be ahead of them.

His shoulders soon sank into the sweaty beige upholstery to see a number of uniformed officers randomly wandering around. Police tape, SOC officers, fingerprints, scene preservation; did none of these matter to the inhabitants of 1973?.

Behind them pulled up Ray and Chris in Chris' mum's Citroën 2cv "I don't see why we couldn't take my car. This is embarrassing" Ray grumbled. "DI Tyler said, that beer from last night at Nelson's pub could still affect your driving up to 24hrs later"

"clunk, click!" Ray mocked. "Safety first" he said nudging Chris.

"didn't you read his pamphlet on drink driving?, it was very informative, I've got a copy here somewhere!", Chris fumbled in his pockets.

" Stop being such a brown nose Chris. I know where I'd like to stick it though" Ray snorted whilst staring from underneath a glowering brow over at Sam. Once they had reached the Cortina they soon slumped themselves against its rear door. "What's wrong with you?" Ray asked, seeing the slight look of superiority on Tyler face. "Nothing?" he returned looking past Ray at the crocheted dress of the Sindy doll propped up by a toilet roll under the skirt sitting happily on the Chris's dash, knowing Ray had sat behind it made Sam smile. Then knowing full well Ray's attitude he brushed off a sly comment.

"Get off the paintwork you pratt," Hunt interjected, anticipating another conflict between his DI and DS, "I've just had her polished" and he clipped the shoulder of Ray's corduroy jacket.

As they all walked over to the kerb outside Harry's Pawnshop Sam took in what was around him: Small piles of glass shards that had once been the blacked out window but now lay brushed to the side of the pavement, the lop-sided open/closed sign hanging by one unbroken wire support and the ash remnants of numerous stubbed out cigarettes which now lay strewn beneath his feet. Ray stood beside him and threw his crumpled cigarette butt down, adding to the pile. "there goes any DNA identification" Sam thought. Matters were made worse when Gene kicked a few stray pieces of glass and as if prompted by the blatant look of frustration emblazoned across Sam's face Hunt turned to Chris and barked "Oi, get this cleared up, a kid could hurt his-self".

Sam ferreted back and forth trying to examine everything he could before the whole crime scene was destroyed. Amongst the Park Drive filtered cigarettes and Players no6, there lay something glittering, more multi faceted than just a shard of smashed glass. Sam reached down and placed what turned out to be a small women's emerald and gold ring onto his pinkie finger, toying with it whilst he assessed it's potential significance to the case.

"Not your colour" Gene said as he stood next to his DI "and might I suggest you get it resized. shall we go and see what Harry has to say about it?" . Hunt turned and with two large strides was filling the doorway of Harry's Pawnshop, looking from the fluorescent lights in each cabinet to the equally light-flooded wall units of trophies, tankards and small decoratively veneered wooden boxes.

With every step, Gene's heavy heeled cream loafers on the shuttering wooden floor boards shook what glass that hadn't been smashed in its frame. "Alright Harry?" Hunt greeted the proprietor, a grey haired man in his late fifties with old, indeterminate tattoos on his arms which were crossed firmly over his chest resting on his gelatinous stomach below. The frayed and worn cuffs of what seemed to be an old and tired green striped shirt told a different story to the bravado he was currently displaying.

"and how did this happen?" Gene asked.

"I dunno. I left Tina in the shop for five minutes while I went to get chips and those little b*_#ards; thinking they can just take what ain't theirs!. They wont do it again I promise you." And he tapped his thigh pocket in what Sam assumed must have been a small pistol, looking rather indicatively over at DI Hunt.

"Why, do you know who did it then?" asked Sam, picking up on what seemed to be a slip of the tongue on Harry's part and interpreting it as an indication that Harry might have some knowledge of the robbers' identities in order to begin setting up a lynch mob so soon.

A frown appeared on Harry's brow, "Who do you think I am! My business is completely above board. I've got nothing to hide" he was suddenly defensive and stomped through to the back office with Gene and Sam in tow. With it's only inhabitance, a single dining room chair, a small desk in the corner with a small paper bag in the centre of it and pretty much nothing else in the entire room it was easy to spot the stains on the floor and the peeling wallpaper. It was hardly unnoticeable that something wasn't right. Even though the room may have been almost empty Sam however felt suffocated, the air seemed heavy and full of smoke but had a fruitier note than your standard cigarette, Harry must smoke cigars he surmised but could find no evidence of smoking in the office, no ash tray, lighter or even cigar box. Gene must have noticed the same absence of any personal belongings as he commented "Moving out Harry?. What's with the uninspiring decor." Genes usual style of brash cynicism turned almost to camp dramatics as Sam watched him flail his arms , gesturing wildly as he made his way over to the desk. "You should get some flowers, liven the place up a bit." He suggested. After covertly removing the half eaten custard tart from the paper bag in front of him, ramming the last three quarters into one side of his mouth he simultaneously managed to continue to talk out the other.

"No, the kids are moving out so I decided to let them have a couple of old pictures I had going spare" Harry explained.

"Very Generous of you Harry", Gene seemed to be satisfied with this reply and with a quick look through the pulled venetian blinds decided that Ray and Chris could work unsupervised for a little longer. He reached across to his left and shut the office door. Suddenly the atmosphere got a little more relaxed, the testosterone levels seemed to drop a little and Gene pulled over a chair, "take your weight off", he said offering for Harry to take a seat. Harry sat down gently.

"How is your leg these days?" Gene asked

"As lucky as ever" Harry replied and reached down to fold back the leg of his beige cotton trousers but stopped at the knee, at which point he twisted and removed a realised looking prosthetic limb. From inside the casing he pulled a small black velvet drawstring bag and handed it to Gene. Pouring a small handful of what looked like uncut diamonds from the bag into the palm of his hand Gene asked "larger shipment than last time Harry, business doing that well?

"Its ok, I've got enough to spare, you're good to me lad, as a thankyou why don't you take one for the wife.?".

Great.. Sam thought.. taking bribes, extortion, what else could Hunt be into?

"No, that's ok thanks Harry, might take one for the girlfriend next time though, keep one safe for me?" Gene winked and handed the bag with the diamonds now secure back inside, back to Harry who placed them and his false leg back into position. "Come on Sam." Gene prompted.

More than a little confused Sam looked from Gene to Harry and then back again. On some occasions Hunt's unorthodox methods may not have been strictly by the rule book but he was certainly effective in his interrogation technique so Sam decided to stand back and let Gene take the reigns. Gene opened the office door again and Sam almost robotically (for now) followed. The pair stood in the doorway overlooking the shop. With a lowered voice Gene explained "what you have to understand here is Harry used to smuggle diamonds into the country during the war and on route he got a little light fingered. He got away with it for so long that he's managed to save those for his retirement. Every so often I make a little check-up on Harry and in turn he supplies me with some useful names and addresses in order to keep us busy."

"So we're now a protection racket then. You're unbelievable. He stole those diamonds from god knows who and your protecting him. Two wrongs don't make right you know?"

Finding Sam's tone rather patronising and briefly forgetting himself Gene's voice raised and turned aggressive. "You arrogant arse. Does he look..." he moderated his volume "... like a bank robber or murderer?" and gestured with his head towards Harry. "He's an old man who lost that leg fighting for King and country." Sam looked back at the hunched figure of Harry who was still sitting in the chair and whose heavy features had seemed to soften and the deep lines on his face gave a more tired rather than angry appearance. Gene continued "If all I need to do is check in on him once in a while and turn a blind eye so he can provide for his family, then where does it hurt to let him continue?"

"You mean he still does it?" Sam asked naïvely.

"Well I don't suppose his shop now looks this knocked about because the WI held a bake sale!. Look!. I don't know how they did things in Hyde but here I need to find out information where I can. Thieves and robbers don't just hand themselves in. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" Gene said in reference to his business arrangement with Harry. Turning on his heels Gene walked over to DS Carling who was trying to chat up Tina, the young sales assistant, who was now leant over the counter, chewing gum and staring at the white wall opposite as if lost in a trance. Either that or trying to ignore Ray, Sam surmised.

Sam called Chris over from the far side of the shop where he was thumbing through the dates and appointments on a Swiss Landscapes calendar on the wall, whilst trying to write in his notepad leaning against the wall next to it, fighting with a ballpoint that was very quickly running out. "Can you find out from Tina what items were taken please." He asked of Chris.

"Ray! Make sure boy wonder here does a good job" Gene stated gesturing over towards Chris. With a sigh Ray didn't relish the prospect of carrying out babysitting duties but when Tina and her mid-thigh skirt caught his eye again, he winked and called back "aye aye boss".

Before leaving Sam made one last cursory inspection of the shop taking in nothing of note above and beyond a ransacked set of shelves, broken display cases and missing jewellery. "Got everything you need?" Gene asked, Sam nodded and they left.

As DCI Hunt and DI Tyler got into the car Phyllis; voice came over the radio informing them of a robbery that had just been called in at another pawnshop. This time at the historic arcade in town. The shop is called Able and Bonds, its a lot higher end than Harry's and only usually deals with fine jewellery, no old watches or battered tin tankards there!.

Gene held the radio in his hand "Yes Phyllis" he said, "right Phyllis... As soon as we can Phyllis" came his responses, rolling off his tongue, a little hollow of sincerity. "I'll tell you what, tell them to hang on, we'll put the sirens on and be running over there now" he said as he ended the conversation. He turned to look at Sam, eyes transfixed as he reached down beside his seat, pulled out the transportable electric flashing light kit and gave it to Sam to hold above him on the car roof. Hunt's eyes returned to the road and he thrust the car into gear and performed an almost skilful handbrake turn and drove in the complete opposite direction to Able and Bonds.

"Where we going?" Sam asked.

"Lunch!" Gene announced rather enthusiastically.

xxx

Nelsons bar 'The Railway Arms' was the closest pub to the station so it wasn't unusual to see quite a few of the constables and detectives in there drinking a pint in the evening or at lunch. Sam lead t way to the first two empty leather seated stools at the bar and offered to get them both a pint and at the same time suggests they talk about Genes threatening letter. Gene was a little dismissive and Sam reminded him that if he hadn't have wanted Sam to do something about it then why show it to him in the first place? "Plus you'd have been bored otherwise, you're nothing with out me" he said flippantly. No matter how unmeaning that last remark was meant to be Sam couldn't help but feel some tinge of truth in it. Sam didn't seem to exist unless Hunt was around, in 1973 anyway. In other words if he wanted to spend longer in what lapses he had back to 2006 it meant him spending less time with DCI Hunt. This was something he would have to test at the first available opportunity he decided. For now, whilst he was firmly under the thumb of his superior he might as well try and solve one mystery and that was Gene and Annie's letters.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Gene's letter, making sure Annie's stayed hidden. Uncreasing the folds on the bar top he started to read.

Gene the Chief, Gene the hero.

It'll get you in trouble

It'll get you killed.

You'll end up alone, no wife beside you

Bled out on the floor

No further than constable

Sam looked up to see a slight look of disbelief across Genes face. "Well its completely inaccurate for one. At no point do I ever plan on being the hero!" There was a pause "and it doesn't even rhyme" he exclaimed. 

"and the fact that you're also not a constable. I think the best thing to do for now is to send these off to the lab for forensics testing, you never know?" Sam said optimistically. 

"Good luck, it takes two weeks or more to get results back and you never know, if your lucky I might not be dead by then. I'll tell you what, you do that while I try to solve the fact that my stomach is grumbling so much. Nelson!" he called " another pint of your finest and a bag of crisps please." He turned to Sam "I'll be back" he said and vanished behind the men's loo door.

The pensive look on Sam's face as he reread Genes letter caused Nelson to put down the tray of dirty glasses he was holding to ask if Sam was ok.

In the past Nelson had shown some incite behind the mystery of why Sam was stuck in 1973 so as a relative outsider Sam felt he could open up to him so laid both letters out onto the bar for Nelson to read. He recommended that Sam ignore the letters but rather investigate the people they were for "follow that little white rabbit Sam. Even if you have to go down a few black holes. Never did Alice an harm did it?". Recalling how his last visit to look at the personnel files ended with a blackout Sam remembered how he had held the files in his hand as he had fallen to the ground but when he had come to in the staffroom they were gone. Who could have taken them? he thought.

From behind Gene clasped a large palm over Sams shoulder, breaking his concentration "Lunchcentration and the atmosphere when he comes out the loo, declaring lunchtime is over and they atime is over" He declared "We best go look into that other robbery".

They arrived at Able and Bonds, the gold ornate friezes dazzling in the luminescent spot lights. The reflections from the display cases off of gold rings, necklaces and Rolex watches caused them both to repeated blink until the had become accustomed. No sooner had they walked through the door than they were approached by a tall grey haired man in his mid fifties dressed smartly in a navy blue pin stripe suit and gold kipper tie, he looked Gene up and down "Can I help you sir?" he asked. Gene grunted and introduced himself at which point mans steely demeanour did not change but he did at least seem to be a little more cooperstive. As he bagan aswering question after question soemthing in the glass cabinet caught sam's eye. It was a replica of the ring he still wore on his pinkie finger that he had found outside Harrys but had forgotten to question him about.

As he hunched over thhe counter the light flickered back at him, swiftly followed by the sound of metal clanging against metal. A flash shot in front of him, fluorescent tubes down a corridor, metal wheels vibrating through the floor. He grabbed hold of the cabinet to steady himself, he closed his eyes firmly. Just as quickly as the images had come, they vanished and he was left with a deep impression from the stone of the emerald ring as it had been pushed into the soft part of the palm of his hand where he had held on so tightly.

Sam turned his head expecting to see people staring at him but Gene and the manager stood with their backs to him and were still talking. Sam was just in time to watch a small black bag much like that which Harry had shown them earlier being passed surreptitiously from the bank manager to Gene who examined it and then back to the manager again.

Oh God Sam thought He is more corrupt than I thought. I can never trust him and must tear his team down.


End file.
